Snipers, Spiders, and Spies
by Sherlocked in the Helicarrier
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is back in the game, fighting crime alongside his best friend. In the process, he stumbles across a new, dangerous foe, one who may not be quite as new as he imagines, and twice as deadly. An intense game of cat-and-mouse commences, and with the lives of London citizens in the balance, only one side can emerge victor. This is war, and everything is fair game.


**_Prolouge:_**

_The Sound_ was not legal by any stretch of the imagination. Occupying a long-forgotten and abandoned stretch of the Underground, it was well-known in the underworld of London as one of the best places to let loose without worrying about the cops on you in mere seconds. They never even made it through the door without some sort of influential contact inside, making it an ideal location for members of gangs and criminal organizations from around the city. Several small rooms branched off of it, previously used as equipment rooms and facilities, were now used for rendezvouses amongst the patrons. Almost always featuring covert meetings in the corners, quick exchanges and trade offs of money and goods, and, unsurprisingly, a thriving drug trade, the club was home to people of all walks of life- most of which were about as legal as the club itself. The few law enforcement officers who knew of its existence were either corrupted patrons of the club, or else lying in the bottom of a river tied to a cinder-block, buried in the polluted sand of the small creeks that ran through sparse parts of the city.

It was packed, today. He pushed between the sweating, writhing bodies, trying to fit in to the place as much as possible, which was admittedly rather difficult considering he was the one of only few people in the room other than the well-paid bouncers who was actually clothed above the waist. His eyes remained fix on his target, leaning against the far wall examining her nails.

Blonde, busty, and of course 50% silicon, she was a real-life Barbie doll. Of course, her occupation was one that none of the little dolls would ever have if they had any self respect. But then, that was highly rare, wasn't it? Her outfit matched the theme: sparkly, high heeled, and more body-tight than a catsuit.

Not-so-coincidentally, she was also targeted by another man in the room, blond and buff- the short-haired equivalent of a modern Tarzan. He, unlike contestant A, was shirtless, showing off large, sculpted muscles and a back lined with the faintest of pearly scar tissue. His simple white tee shirt was tucked into the pocket of his jeans, small corner standing out against the denim like a small white flag of surrender. Of course, this would never be said to the man, who was clearly strong enough to win a fight against any number of the bouncers surrounding the floor, and thusly easily able to toss anyone who made any sort of comment along those lines straight into intensive care. Painfully.

Unfortunately, Tarzan reached her first. A smile, a wink, a flutter of eyelashes and a scandalously short bedazzled minidress later, she was the man's company for the evening for the incredibly low price of only 500 pounds. This was hardly a drop in the water for the man, who would make twice that amount in the next 30 minutes.

The pair danced, they drank, they fucked, and then somehow they ended up in a back alley above ground, a knife protruding from the woman's back as she floated face-down in the small river. Until of course a brick was tossed in and she sank to the bottom quickly. Tarzan glanced down at his mobile, sending a quick text.

**Finished. -SM**

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

**Excellent. The money has been transferred to your account. Return to base immediately. -JM**

**Yessir. -SM**

The man nodded, pulling on his unblemished shirt easily and shoving the empty sheath into his pocket. He quickly glanced around, making sure anything he'd touched had been wiped down and disposed of. Satisfied, he turned, walking down the thin alleyway towards the street, where an unmarked car waited to escort him back to base.

Meanwhile, back in the club, the other man was also texting.

**Got him. Blond, strong, tall, evidently rich considering the quite frankly ridiculous amount he paid for the woman. I do believe she has already been eliminated, quite probably in the alleyway upstairs, as I haven't seen either in nearly half an hour. -SH**

**A file has been opened. Unfortunately, the area's surveillance was disrupted by an untraceable source, so we have no positive identification or description apart from yours. Send me a more complete description when possible. -MH**

He thumbed the button on the side, screen going black as he rose, tucking it into his chest pocket. He stepped briskly towards the exit, forcing his way around the people and wandering hands. He nodded at the bouncer, slipping up the steps into the nighttime air above. The alley was empty, not surprising considering the crowd that was usually directly beneath his feet. He looked around, scanning the scene. No fingerprints, no footprints, not a speck of blood anywhere. The only clue as to what had no doubt transpired moments before was the steady stream of bubbles rising from the black water in the back of the street, flowing smoothly between buildings in an effort to rejoin a bigger body of water. He turned his coat collar up, work finished for now, and headed out of the street, disappearing into the mass of people on the main road. He melted in easily, unnoticeable to the late-night crowd. He slipped down a side street, a different alley about four blocks from the last one.

No one noticed the shadow creeping down the street.

No one ever did.

* * *

**Author's note: Hello there! You seem to have stumbled across my story amongst the mass of others available to you. This story is going to have foul language, intense and graphic scenes of violence, and possibly some smut. Not your cup of tea? Apologies. The 'back' button is available in the upper left of your screen. If you feel quite alright with this sort of thing, feel free to favorite, follow, and most of all, review! Reviews are the best thing a writer can get, whether positive or constructive criticism, so please let me know what you think! Updating may not be entirely regular, as I have a rather irregular schedule, but I will update any time I get a chance. **

**Thank you! ~Sherlocked**


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